Poisoned
by pessimisticprose
Summary: Grantaire constantly inebriates himself, trying to relieve the pain of loving Enjolras. Éponine steps in one night, trying to diffuse the situation. What happens after that, though? (one-sided ExR, implied É/M, and É/R friendship!) One-shot


**Poisoned**

**TheWriterToChangeThemAll**

**One-Shot**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Warnings: Drunkenness and tragedy**

* * *

Grantaire despised his nickname. 'Taire. It annoyed him to no end, and if there was an inevitable end, it would reside in the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. He hated the way Combeferre and Bahorel would call his name loudly over the entire population of the Café Musain. 'Taire made him sound feminine, and Grantaire had worked hard enough to gain whatever piece of a reputation he had here. He knew he didn't belong among these revolutionaries, but still he stayed.

If he would let anyone call him that forsaken nickname, it would be Éponine. Éponine Thénardier was probably the only person Grantaire trusted completely and _also_ returned that trust. He rested his faith on the shoulders' of many, but none trusted him in return. It was because he was a drunkard, wasn't it? Grantaire was a bitter drunkard to them, and nothing more.

* * *

"'Taire, stop it," Éponine chided, trying to gently take the bottle of brandy from his hands. His hands were wrapped so tightly around the bottle's neck that she feared he may cause it to shatter in his own hands. She waved a hand behind her back, signaling Combeferre and Courfeyrac to go away. "'Taire, everyone is worried about the, uh, _state _you've been putting yourself in latley."

"'m foine," he hiccuped, groaning. His words slurred together, reminding Grantaire that he wasn't in complete possession of his mental faculties. "_He_ isn' worrie', is 'e?"

Éponine gave him a pained look, "You know that isn't fair, Grantaire! _Look_, you need to rest for a long night," Éponine said gently. "Give me the bottle."

He made a strangled noise, "No."

"'Taire-"

"No! 's mine!" he cried, pulling it closer to his chest. He looked up at Éponine, and for the first time, she saw how positively dreadful he looked. Dark circled accented his eyes in a unflattering way, whilst his hair was dangerously uncombed.

"Honey," she cooed, "Stand up."

He swore at her, complaining whilst he complied. Grantaire stood shakily, clutching the brandy close. "'his isn' fun."

"How much have you had to drink?" she asked, "Give." Éponine held out an unyielding hand to Grantaire. He looked down at the bottle, then her hand, and back again. Eventually, she let out a menacing growl and he gave her his precious alcohol. "Come, let's get you home, 'Taire."

"I wanna stay 'ere!" he complained, but allowed the girl who was considerably smaller than he to steer him along.

She stopped by Enjolras, making apologies for their impending lack of presence, "I'm going to take this drunkard home. He's a bit incoherent right now."

"Am no'!" he whined. Grantaire shot Enjolras a look, "I dunno whut she's talkin' 'bout!"

Enjolras nodded. His nose crinkled in distaste at the smell of Grantaire's breath, "You're beyond drunk, Grantaire. Go home and don't come back again if you're just going to drink yourself beyond mental functions."

Grantaire recoiled like he had been hit, "As you wish."

Éponine glared at Enjolras, who was looking at the man opposite and not her, then gave Grantaire a sympathetic pat on the head, "Come, honey. Let's get you home." Enjolras' sharp eyes followed them out of the Café Musain, but he said nothing.

* * *

Éponine hauled Grantaire a block down the street, until they finally landed on his doorstep. He had been a deadweight the entire journey here and she felt that she might gain muscle from this excursion.

"'Taire, why-"

"Gerroff me!" he shrieked, bolting to the toilet. He vomited violently, heaving once he had finished.

"Are you quite done?" she asked, flipping back her grimy hair, "This has to stop. You're going to drink yourself to death over him."

"I 'ate you," he said, coughing.

"Enjolras is a man who loves his country, not a human being!" She realized the severity of her words and instantly apologized. Éponine knelt beside him on the cool floor and she ran her fingers through his inky hair, "'Taire, Enjolras won't recognize your worth like I would. He is a pampered schoolboy and we are merely gamins."

"No' gamin," Grantaire gasped. He let go of his stomach's contents again, sobering as he threw up more and more alcohol. "Hangover." He pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to ward off the impending headache. "I'm sorry," he groaned, "I jus' hate it."

"What, being infatuated with someone? I understand, _trust_ me."

"I do trus' you, 'Ponine. I do no' think it is simple infatuation, though. I'm no' good enuff for 'im."

Éponine let out a motherly coo, "Enjolras can't see what a good person you are because you are a cynic and constantly drunk. Why do you not try to sober yourself?"

"I have. No' workin'," he groaned again, "Please, I really need you t' leave. I need t' thin'."

"I understand," Éponine kissed his forehead, "Be safe," she murmured, leaving Grantaire on the floor.

* * *

A fortnight passed before anyone thought to check on Grantaire. They all just assumed he would come back one night and get drunk, as per usual. However, that day never came. Éponine was the most worried, Jehan being a close second. The two of them went to Grantaire's house, considerably worried about their outcome.

"I wonder," Éponine mused, never finishing her sentence. The door was unlocked, just like she had left it. Jehan walked through the door first, ready to fight if need be. The foulest stench either of them had ever experienced wafted through the air. Éponine put her hand over her nose, trying to rid herself of the grotesque odor.

"'Taire?" he called, but heard only silence as a reply.

They rounded the corner to his bedroom and saw Grantaire laying face down on the ground. Éponine let out a scream, voice breaking. She fell to her knees at his side, hands fluttering over his body, but not touching him.

"No! Go back to the Musain! Get Enjolras and Joly! _Now_!" Éponine did as she was told, running as quickly away from the two men as possible.

Jehan looked down at his friend's body, but could not make out any chest movement. Jehan felt useless. He could not fix Grantaire like Joly could. He bowed his head and began to pray.

* * *

Éponine burst through the door, interrupting one of Enjolras' charismatic speeches, "Stop!" she shrieked, succeeding in silencing the room rather quickly, "It's Grantaire! He's not moving! I-"

Enjolras jumped down from the chair he was standing on, "Where is he?" Éponine, Enjolras, and Joly ran towards Grantaire's home. Enjolras was the first through the already opened door. Éponine pointed to his bedroom, hand shaking. Tears were in her eyes. Enjolras strode forward, Joly close behind him, but Éponine could not bear to see her friend laying on the floor again. She waited in the main room.

When Enjolras saw the fallen Grantaire, he was immediately at his side, "Joly, can you do anything?"

Joly took hold of his wrist, checking for a pulse. Enjolras and Jehan stayed deathly silent, waiting for the verdict. It felt like hours to Enjolras. Joly let Grantaire's wrist fall back at his side and looked at the men beside him. He shook his head.

* * *

**AN: Wow. Tears! R died of alcohol poisoning, by the way. He had no surface injuries. **

**Waaahhhh! So sad!**

**Thanks for reading! All feedback is appreciated! **


End file.
